


Greetings from New Mexico

by PrinceDel



Series: Greetings from New Mexico [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: post s12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDel/pseuds/PrinceDel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all the Freelancers had been brave souls. Some couldn't handle the project. And Agent New Mexico had always been a sniping coward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greetings from New Mexico

**Author's Note:**

> The potential for original characters is just too great. So here, have my Freelancer OC. This is just laying groundwork for potentially writing more. I really love this character I’ve made.  
> You can see more of him here: http://tinyurl.com/p556ujx

There were perks to living alone.

Less detectable. Less to carry. Less to feed.

And maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the man in question wasn't living alone in the wilderness on a planet recovering from war.

He survived, though. He didn't want to ruin this. It felt fragile, almost, like any day he would be found. There are things he doesn't know, he’s been out here too long. He figures it’s what he gets for deserting.

Any day recovery could come for him and it got harder to take daily. He modified his armor, even though he was constantly camouflaged. There were plenty of opportunities to join an actual life, with people, people who talk and comfort and fight together. It tempted him every time he saw patrols from either side of the war, but his fear of being discovered far outweighed it. Even after he heard the war ended - especially, actually. Some outside force was coming. Control, if he remembers right. Could be from the project. It’s been a long time.

It’s when his scope catches two distinctive armors that his blood runs cold.

They’re talking, but all he hears is ringing. His breathing is low and shallow, he knows they have motion detectors, why wouldn't they? But. It’s not just the two of them.

He tries to remember. Were they in the project? The blue looks familiar, but the way the owner moves doesn't. Maybe agents he never familiarized himself with.

Then the specific color palettes remind him. Shades of red and blue. Simulation troopers.

Why were Agents with them? He was so curious, needed to know. It could mean so many things. They couldn't possibly be deserters like him, no. She was made to lead and took pride in her work, and he always thought he was doing good. They weren't cowards like the deserter that watched them.

Which left more promising odds. He wants to hear what they have to say, what could have happened that brought troopers and agents here -

Shit.

He freezes when they do. It quickly causes discomfort with him just barely leaning forward, and he regrets taking a deep breath. They look directly at him.

No, towards him. He has camouflage. If he just goes still again, times his breaths with the gentle breeze…

They’re coming towards him. Now, he’s genuinely terrified. Everything he feared since deserting coming to him, and he can’t will himself to stop his slight shake. There’s no way they haven’t detected him now.

“Doesn't seem hostile,” the voice sounded familiar, but not at the same time. “Staying in one spot, actually.”

“Maybe it is taking a nap!”

“Or waiting.” Definitely a familiar voice. “It might be wildlife.”

“I thought this place didn't have wildlife?”

“It better not, because I could have had burgers.”

“That’s disgusting.”

They’re so close. He tries to steady his breathing. If they don’t look too closely, they could just pass him up.

“...New Mexico?” The less familiar voice asks. His breath catches. It’s a name he hasn't heard in a long time.

“.......Director.” He mumbles to himself. Barely a breath, and they don’t catch it other than the sound.

“New Mexico. As in the state?” He can hear the disbelief, still too afraid to turn. “As in, freelancer?”

“...Yeah.” Carolina. “Agent New Mexico.” There’s surprise in her voice, but not anger or disgust. It takes him by surprise.

“You’re not recovery,” he assumes, hopes, and they barely hear him.

“No, dude. We ended that mess.”

He turns suddenly. They’re all staring at him, and it feels surreal. So long had he spent making himself invisible after crashing here.

“How are you alive?” Washington asks, utterly shocked. Mexico doesn't really know. Maybe luck. Maybe the universe thought it’d be funny.

His throat is dry. He hasn't talked since he landed on this planet, and words felt foreign on his tongue. His gaze lands on the small hologram. An AI. He didn't stay long enough to see those seen through.

“It is nice to meet you, Agent Chex Mix!” breaks the silence. The blue one, who almost looked familiar. “I am Caboose! And this is Freckles,” he presents his gun, “say hello, Freckles.”

“Hello, Agent New Mexico.”

“H… Hello.” He manages, staring at the gun. “....Nice to meet you.” Almost hesitantly, he offers his hand towards the soldier, who happily takes it to first pull him up to a standing position and then shake.

“Have you been on Chorus this whole time?” Washington sounds shocked.

“....Define.” Mexico manages, facing him before motioning vaguely to the spot he had been in. “Three days, there.”

“You've been in this spot for three days.” The maroon one sounds disgusted.

"That's almost as bad as you, Grif!" The red one. Mexico assumes the orange one he looks at is Grif.

"Yeah, good luck beating my record." The way he says it, so seriously, actually makes Mexico chuckle. It's a soft, barely there sound. It sounds unfamiliar, and he remembers when his voice was a little rough. He holsters his gun and let's his camouflage deactivate.

"Nice armor!" The pink one compliments. Mexico smiles a little under his helmet and rubs at the armor on his arms. "Donut, by the way." After that the others introduce themselves, and it feels casual, almost comfortable. He still shifts anxiously, carefully watching each of them.

"Really, though." Carolina finally starts, "How long have you been on Chorus?"

He looks to the side, the sudden discomfort of them watching him. "I... don't know. Long time." Steadying himself with a deep breath, he continues. “I crashed a long time ago. Hid while pirates looted the ship.”

“And that didn't seem suspicious?” Mexico shrugs weakly, Washington shaking his head. “Long story short two mercs were playing two sides of the planet into having a war.”

“Feds and New Republic,” Mexico offers.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re the same as ever, then.” It’s a jab, and it makes Mexico wince when Carolina says it. “Didn't expect you to manage this long, though. Almost impressed.”

He scrapes his boot against the ground. “Hey, how about we save this for later? We gotta get back and drill some privates.” Tucker suggests. There’s a moment of silence as everyone watches him. Mexico wonders if it’s some ritual of the group. “Bow chicka bow wow.” Oh. Never mind.

“We do have some privates to see.” Simmons makes a noise at Donut's agreement, “How about you come back with us? You look like you could use some meat in you.”

Mexico almost protests, but he is hungry. There was almost no wildlife at all here, and he was barely surviving off vegetation. “That… would be very nice.”

They lead him back to base - or rather, herd him; he doesn't take it personally. He understands that at the very least the agents and AI would be uncomfortable with a former freelancer behind them, even if they did leave the project. It had been so long since he ate rations. The sounds of the others became a hum in his ears as they talked and bickered amongst each other, and he wondered if they’d let him nap after eating. He was exhausted from the mere prospect of being around people again so suddenly after spending so many years alone in a jungle.

He wasn't sure if it scared him more or less than waiting for Recovery.


End file.
